Good and Dead

CHAPTER ONE

Maggie pricked up her ears and laid aside her magazine, glancing at the clock.

One A M.

Cautious, quiet, footsteps came across the porch.

Not caring how much noise she made, even hoping she woke up a few people on Jupiter if any of them were like her mental case of a husband, Maggie ran to fling open the door. The door slapped against the wall and Maggie stopped, frozen speechless with her mouth open.

A young uniformed policeman stood there clutching his hat in his hands. He was young, nice looking, and terribly uncomfortable. He glanced nervously back at his partner in the police car at the curb. He was obviously wishing he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

His partner gave him an encouraging nod but made no move to join him. He swallowed and got on with it.

Mrs. Murphy? Mrs. Horace A. Murphy?

Dread seeped into Maggie like something contagious, the heat of anger replaced by a cHale and the feeling she'd been kicked in the stomach. She managed a very small nod.

I'm Maggie, Margaret Murphy. My husband is Horace Aloysious Murphy.

Ma'am, I'm sorry to tell you, there's been an accident ….

A figure appeared beside him. A young man in a leather jacket. He was invisible to them both as he materialized out of thin air. Unspeaking, he gazed with worry and compassion on Maggie's upturned face. Horace's spirit had come home. The thought that he was DOA was so unthinkable his lips formed an ironic and silent laugh at himself and his predicament.

But there was no denying it. Horace had known when he looked down on his still warm but doomed body he had to come home. He had to let Maggie and the police know somehow that his death was wrong, DEAD WRONG!

Maggie's misery showed plainly as she listened. Pictures of Horse, which is what his Never Neverland friends called Horace, flashed like a kaleidoscope across her memory. His smile. His arms reaching out to hold her close. His sweet generosity. Him on his motorcycle, grinning back at her. Tears she wasn't even aware of rolled down as she tried to concentrate on what the policeman was saying.

There had been an accident? Had to identify? Oh, God! Identify! Maggie thought in horror.

Maggie's cold hands clenched till the nails bit into her icy palms.

Motorcycle left the road and hit a tree. Snatches of what the policeman said insisted on getting through the turmoil in Maggie's mind. Her beloved juvenile delinquent would never grow up, never have children of his own, would never know how much she cared for him and worried about him. The sudden bruising, breathtaking hurt settled to a less breathless more continuous ache in her heart. Tears blurred Maggie's vision.

Then it was finally over. Reaching out to touch her hand the young policeman looked as miserable as she felt.

Maggie didn't remember whether she had thanked him for coming or not. Didn't remember closing the door after the policeman left. Didn't know Horace had faded away with him.

Left in a state of shock and disbelief she drifted into the house and over to the couch to pick up the phone on the end table.

She didn't remember pushing the right numbers either, but her Aunt Myrtle's groggy voice answered.

Mffft. Ah, hello?

Aunt Myrtle. Aunt Myrtle. The words were barely audible.

Maggie? Is that you? Aunt Myrtle was suddenly awake, glancing at the clock. Are you all right?

No. No, I'm not. Something like a sob made it hard to get any more words out. Horse, Horace….. There's been an accident.

The words trailed off and Maggie realized her fingers hurt from gripping the phone so hard.

Accident. Horace. Maggie, are you all right? Are you at home?

Yes. Tears rolled down onto the phone.

Just stay right there. I'm coming. The dial tone came on.

Aunt Myrtle got there in minutes. She pried the phone out of Maggie's hand and took over.

The following ten days went by like it was happening to someone else. The zombie that looked like Maggie Murphy ran on automatic. It brushed its teeth and managed to get decently covered when it had to go outside. The rest was directed by Aunt Myrtle.

Somewhere from all that emotional fog the necessary information was extracted and what had to be done was done about taking care of Horace and planting Maggie's feet on the first day of the rest of her life.

Horace's last paycheck was sent to Maggie along with a small amount he'd had in some sort of retirement plan she didn't understand, plus some other information. That she would have hospitalization for the next sixty days did get through to her because it registered the fact she wouldn't have any insurence after the sixty days were up. She just sat holding the papers for a while, as if hoping all the information would somehow soak in through her fingertips.

The money talked the loudest. She would deposit it tomorrow. Some shred of logic was still working well enough to register that.

The golden truths Aunt Myrtle extracted from the mine pit of useless speculation and what felt like brain bruises in Maggie's head were: she had Horace's last check; there would be only one more. Those plus the little dab he had in the retirement fund amounted to just under two thousand dollars.

He had just paid the rent and monthly bills, Aunt Myrtle commented. "

Maggie nodded. That's one good thing.

Maggie signed. Good for thirty days, anyway. I’ve got thirty days to get th money for our next batch of bills. I’ve got to get busy and find a job.

The familiar painful ache twisted her heart again. Oh, Horace, I need you, she wailed silently.

She didn't look at her aunt, afraid her sad desperation would show. Aunt Myrtle was still going through the papers Maggie had laid on the coffee table.

Did Horace have any insurance? Any kind at all? Aunt Myrtle asked hopefully.

Horace’s transparent shadow appeared and paced as they talked, looking guilty about the insurance.

No, Maggie sighed with a sad half smile. He thought he was immortal. Him and that motorcycle.

Aunt Myrtle eyed another nearby stack on the coffee table and saw the top one was a bill. Thinking there was something one other thing that was sure as death and taxes, and it was monthly bills. She looked up at Maggie, hopefully anyway.

Maybe you can get on full time at the day care center now? You've been there a while, what do you think?

Maggie shook her head. No, that's out. They're closing one of their places and I got notice last week they won't need me anymore. I'm going to have to find something else, and fast.

You will, you will. Don't panic yet.

Thanks. For all you've done. Maggie's eyes went to the urn that held Horace's ashes. I didn't know how to go about any of this. I know Horace would probably want to be scattered over a raceway or a cloverleaf somewhere. He told me so once.

Horace stopped to examine the urn and grinned like an eight year old at the reference to a race track resting place.

He mentioned it at some race we went to. Maggie bowed her head. But I just can't. I can't do it. Not now, anyway. I don't know what I'd have done without you, Aunt Myrtle.

Oh, you'd have done all right and you'll make it all right from now on, too. You're young and healthy. She grinned, trying to cheer Maggie up. And you don't have warts on your nose or a wooden leg. You'll get a job and everything's going to be all right.

Horace grinned at Maggie and gave Aunt Myrtle a thumbs-up.

Maggie laughed a little through her tears, making both of them feel better.

Come on home with me. We'll have supper and there's a good movie on. Bring Horace with you, she waved an arm in the direction of the urn. He always liked a good movie.

She kept talking, not giving Maggie a chance to settle back into dull eyed depression. Hollywood's got more trouble than we have. And heck, those poor devils have to sell it!

They stopped by the store for 'rabbit food' and a frozen pizza. At Aunt Myrtle's, Maggie started putting things up in the kitchen and Aunt Myrtle suggested, Go out and look at my rose bed. I just put in a pretty new pink one. Down on the far end.

Getting a sudden idea she turned to look at Maggie, her expression thoughtful. Maybe Horace would like to Rest In Peace with the roses? What do you think?

Maggie stopped, her elbow holding the refrigerator door open. Can we do that?

I don't see why not. Some people put their ashes on the mantel. Some people scatter them where they were told before-before-…. What's wrong with a rose garden?

As she closed the refrigerator door Maggie leaned against it, picturing Aunt Myrtle's roses. I like the idea better than scattering and I know you aren't going to move after forty hears here.

Right. This was my mama's house and now it's mine. There's a shovel out back in the shed if you want to do it now. She got on with her work stocking the shelves from the grocery sacks. But there's no hurry, whatever you think.

I don't know. I think my decision maker's been on break for a couple of weeks. I'll go out and look, though. Think about it.

Maggie went out to look at the roses, moving like she needed a tow. Horace started after her but faded and disappeared as if he hadn't got the hang of appearing and disappearing yet. He looked as he went, like that was as aggravating as not being able to communicate.

As soon as the door closed behind Maggie Aunt Myrtle went into action. She grabbed the phone like it was a hot bargain on sale and dialed quickly, keeping an eye out the window.

The Herald, Hank Hanover.

HANK! I've got to talk fast!

A slightly nasal twang intoned, The number you have reached is not in service at this time….

Nice try, Hank. Listen, Maggie needs a job and she needs it now. How about it?

I don't have one, Cuz. The best I could do is a couple of days a week. Three if she can stand in for the senior citizen who calls himself my only columnist.

Stand in?

Yeah, he hasn't showed up for work for a couple of days.

How old is he? Myrtle blurted quickly.

Forget it, Cuz. His DOB is nineteen oh hell and he will probably outlive all the other nervous-frantic cases here. But I do need someone to write the column till he gets back. And do general office work, of course.

She can do that.

How do you know?

Because she' s smart and she can type, and she can do it. Start her off with the two or three days and try her out on the column. What have you got to lose? You need help don't you?

Well, send her over tomorrow. But I'm not promising a thing.

I am. Blood kin is blood kin! Myrtle's voice had dropped an octave and sounded grim.

Are you threatening me, Cuz?

You finally caught on!

You've been reading too many of those who-dunnits and 'cozy'mysteries. He made a prissy little gesture as if she could see it over the phone.

We'll be there tomorrow.

We? He didn't get a chance to argue. He was holding a dead phone.

* * *

The rabbit food was nearly all reduced to bite sized chunks when Maggie called from the door. She looked happier and so did Horace, who accompanied her. He came and went a couple of times as if practicing his entrances until Maggie spoke and he stopped to listen.

Hey, I'm taking you up on the rose bed plot. The new rose is beautiful and the climbing one is Peace. The pretty new pink is a hybrid. Did you know that? Silly question!

Yeah, I know. I'm picky about my roses. Besides which it said so on the tag it had on it. Need any help?

No, I'll be back in a few minutes.

The door closed again as Aunt Myrtle checked to see if she'd got out everything they needed. She remembered some of the sweet things Horace had done for her favorite niece and blessed him as a good guy. She felt like he'd like the roses and Maggie would feel better. Right now that was the most important need, along with finding a job. She'd handle Hank when they got over there, she promised herself. He did admit he needed help. She considered that half the battle.

Aunt Myrtle straightened, smiling to herself as she watched Maggie from the kitchen window while she worked.

The rabbit food looked good and she took the pizza out of the oven as Maggie came in to wash her hands.

I buried the urn at the end where the new rose is since the ground was a little looser there. I put your mulch back, too.

That's good. Timed it just right. Want a Coke or Root Beer?

Either one. The salad looks good, I'm glad you thought of having pizza. You checked the label to make sure they didn't put any calories in this stuff, didn't you?

They know better! But I think my personal fat factory can operate without them. Don't worry. Just enjoy.

Maggie shook some dressing onto her salad without looking up. I buried the urn up to the rim around the top. It looks all right and I know where it is in case either one of us wants to move it for some reason. One of his friends had his ashes scattered over his favorite fishing hole, isn't that a hoot?

Maggie caught her lower lip between her teeth and fought back tears.

I've heard of stranger places. Maybe it's not about places anyway. A friend of mine said she wanted to be cremated and her ashes scattered because she wanted to be free, not in a grave or a mausoleum somewhere.

Maybe so. Anyway, he's been cremated like he wanted to be and he had his organ donor card in his billfold so he can feel good about that, too.

Did they tell you anything about the organs?

Yes, I think they have to. They took a kidney and an eye cornea. I didn't want to know any details.

Maggie, I'm so sorry. He was a good hearted person, everybody liked him. And he enjoyed life. She reached over to squeeze Maggie's hand. You've got a lot of good things to remember.

I know. I've got a lot of good memories to hold onto. And they told me he didn't suffer. He never regained consciousness. They kept him on life support to take the organs and check with next of kin. I didn't even know enough to ask about what happened, I guess there's some kind of report. I'm just sort of numb right now.

Aunt Myrtle shrugged. I'm sure there is some kind of accident report. But, right now, you've got to take care of Number One. And you'll be all right. We'll go see Hank tomorrow.

Oh. Cousin Hank at the paper? Maggie raised an eyebrow.

Yes. I'm pretty sure he's got something for you to do. Aunt Myrtle kept her eyes on her plate.

Aunt Myrtle? Maggie's tone demanded the truth. Did you threaten his family jewels if he didn't?

I didn't have to. He knows me, was the grim answer. And this is a family matter.

Maggie swallowed the last bite of her pizza and didn't comment, not wanting to think about it. Do you have any of mama's funeral salad left?

It's in the 'frig, help yourself. And just leave it out here. I'll have some too.

Tasting the jello salad, Maggie remembered some of the times her mother had made it before she and Maggie's dad were killed by a semi on the freeway several years before. Aunt Myrtle noticed the fleeting sadness.

You want to stay over tonight? There’s an old movie on as I said.

No, if you don't mind taking me, I want to go home. You can get back in time to watch the movie and I've got to get used to all that emptiness sometime. Thought if you don't mind stopping, I'd get a paper on the way home and start looking for a job. A full time job, I mean.

That reminds me, when I talked to Hank at the Herald about using you two or maybe three days, he mentioned a column someone was doing. But whoever is doing it hasn't showed up for a couple of days. Who knows, it may work into something. Aunt Myrtle sounded optimistic but Maggie raised worried eyes to hers.

You're sure? He said so? Two or three days for sure? Now?

The answer was a positive nod. I said we'd be there tomorrow. It sounded chiseled in stone.

And you didn't ah, lean on him?

You have to lean forward to get ahead, haven't you noticed? Maggie, I just asked, is all. He's always needing help at least part time, the way they move on. You can't ever tell, and it's a start.

It sure can't hurt. Maggie's expression brightened. He won’t throw us out, I guess. We're kinfolks, after all, like you said.

And I'm practicing my judo. Aunt Myrtle pointed that out with pride looking superior if not downright invincible.

You still taking that martial arts course?

No, but he doesn't know that. I switched to aerobics till my muscles started objecting and reminding me I'm facing the big six-oh my next birthday. That's when I fogot about all that muscle building. Now I just move around enough not to take root anywhere.

Maggie insisted on washing the dishes before she left and floated out into the night on hearty assurances from Aunt Myrtle and a few glimmers of hope about Cousin Hank's temporary job offer.

Despite her guilt about Aunt Myrtle having to drive at night she felt better on the way home than she had since Horace's accident. They stopped for her to get a paper and a diet drink before Aunt Myrtle pulled up into her driveway.

Maggie waved goodbye and marched bravely up the steps of the dark house, not looking back.

I’ll leave the porch light on next time, she promised herself, then frowned. No, Horace said that just lets the burglars know there’s no one hme. I’ll leave a lamp on or something inside.

She closed her eyes. Her hand gripped the cold knob. Standng in the door as her Aunt Myrtle's car picked up speed, there was an empty feeling inside where her heart was supposed to be. I miss you, Horace, she breathed into the dark.

The silent dark closed around her as she entered the quiet house. She didn't see or feel Horace as he joined her with an encouraging pat on the back. He put his arms around her briefly but they just went through like a gentle breeze. He put his hands back in his pockets and faded away.

Maggie hit the light switch. She tossed the paper on the end table by the phone and went to brush her teeth before looking at the want-ads, somehow hoping waiting a bit might make there be more ads.

It didn't work. The paper didn't have much to offer but there were lots of professional placement services. She made a face at the pie-in-the-sky ads. I doubt these people have any jobs anyway. It’s always worded so generally, nothing specific. And all these technical requirements! If I had those skills and degrees and ‘ain’t I wonderfuls’ would I be reading this?

Maggie snorted in disbelief at an ad which appeared so frequently she had noticed it before. Got to be something wrong to have that much turnover. Got to be.

Maggie tossed the paper aside and put on the shapeless gown Horace had laughed at, her mind still on job possibilities. She mentally went over the exact amount in her purse and her checking account. A lot of it was already spoken for with no more in sight.

After pir stop at The Herald, I’ll start knocking on door just in case Cousin Hank isn’t as afraid of Aunt Myrtle as she thinks he is.

A wave of affection warmed her heart as she remembered her aunt's determination about the job.

Horace appeared and bent to kiss her on the forehead just before she closed her eyes.

CHAPTER TWO

The next day Aunt Myrtle's car pulled into Maggie's driveway behind the old car which looked like it had found it's final resting place. Maggie and Horace had referred to it as the heap. Myrtle tooted the horn twice.

The door opened and she noticed a mended tear at the bottom of the screen as Maggie's head appeared.

Be right with you, brushing my hair!

It seemed the harsh morning light was showing up in unsympathetic, glaring, daylight all the flaws, perils, and patches that surrounded her favorite niece.

Aunt Myrtle got out and was looking down at the heap when Maggie joined her.

What ails the beast?

You've got me, Maggie shook her head. But I think it's got a lot to do with old age.

Don't say that! Aunt Myrtle clapped her hands over her ears in horror.

Maggie wrinkled her nose. Don't be so touchy, you're not old. She smiled at her favorite relative affectionately. You wouldn't be so much in demand for chauffeuring and such if you were in anywhere near the shape that heap is in.

Thank you, I think. Aunt Myrtle got in behind the wheel and settled her tall and well upholstered but not fat frame, reaching for her seatbelt.

This is no Cadillac but what it lacks in prestige it makes up for in efficiency. It runs on bubbles and fumes!

Maggie smiled. Looks like a BMW to me after trying to coax the heap to just run, then stop somewhere near where Horace applies the brakes! She fastened her seatbelt recalling the heap didn't have those either.

Aunt Myrtle drove defensively facing whatever traffic hazard might come their way.

Seen from the corner of Maggie's eye, her Aunt Myrtle's profile bore so much resemblance to her mother's Maggie’s heart warmed with affection and not a little humor. The pretty, nearly sixty year old face looked straight ahead like an Irish Setter on point and held every bit as much determination.

On point for a job for me. I love you, Aunt Myrtle, Maggie’s heart warmed and she got her hopes up again.r

Getting there early like we are, in case Hank does tell you to take a seat and start typing you'll have a full day's work. After all, he did say he that he could use you a couple or three days.

Maggie gave a small nod without answering. She reminded herself to get the recommendation from the day care center as soon as she could and mentally crossed her fingers.

At the paper there was a strip of parking slots in front of The Herald which also served the real estate office. Aunt Myrtle evidently didn't feel a bit guilty about taking up room in the small area and Maggie was afraid they wouldn't be there very long anyway. So there was no use worrying about it.

It’s not as if I’m looking for input for my worry list. Here I am, a new widow, and facing my twenty-fifty birthday when all the cosmetic companies tell you your skin starts drying out. Maggie tried laughing at herself mentally instead of crying and looked briefly at her reflection as she closed her car door. Her aunt was already on the move.

There goes Aunt Myrtle. Marching ikn there like she’s ready to take over! She smiled to herself.

Maggie followed her Aunt in. What else could she do?

Not seeing Hank anywhere in sight as they entered the outer office of the newspaper Aunt Myrtle looked around. She approached a chic young black woman who was looking critically at her flame colored fingernails.

Before speaking, Aunt Myrtle looked down at the nameplate on the cluttered reception desk.

Ah, excuse me, Fatima?

Yes, came out bored to the bone.

We have an appointment to see Hank Hanover this morning.

Fatima gazed at her a second with beautiful but uninterested eyes then yelled, HANK!

From somewhere off to their left came a shuffle and Hank appeared with an armload of papers.

Oh, hi, Myrtle. He nodded and glanced at Maggie. He greeted them pleasantly or maybe just wasn't much interested one way or another, Maggie thought.

He put most of the papers on a desk. Come on back to my office.

Hank led the way, then Myrtle. Maggie followed picking up the loose pieces that fell from some of his collection of whatever it was as he was and carrying them as they followed.

In the office